


Shinigami Dispatch Society Chronicles Season 1

by Truedarkhunter



Category: Kuroshitsuji : The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World - Iwasaki/Mori/Mari, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, F/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28494369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truedarkhunter/pseuds/Truedarkhunter
Summary: Realizing there won't be enough Grim Reapers to handle the load of souls that will be coming in during WWII, Central Dispatch agrees to an unorthodox plan to send some Reapers into the past to integrate and prepare the way for sending more in to handle the load at the crucial time.  However, due to a clerical error, the aid gets sent back to 1888 instead.  The future lives of the Reapers of London Dispatch hinge upon the success of this mission, not to mention the fate of millions of souls that could be claimed by demons if the Reapers fail.





	1. SDSC Opening William and Carina

**Author's Note:**

  * For [London Dispatch](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=London+Dispatch).



SDSC Opening

Interlude: Ankou (Undertaker)

She was dead. Definitely dead. Well, that puts a real crimp into things, Ankou thought. Usually such a thing came as part and parcel of being a Grim Reaper with the Shinigami Dispatch Society, except the hapless corpse before him happened to be one of their own. Moreover, she was supposed to be the lucky volunteer who would get sent back in time to help the Reapers cope with massive death counts of the Second World War. 

Except she was dead.

Falling back into familiar habits from his days as Undertaker, Ankou began engaging the recently deceased corpse in friendly tones. “Well, well, this puts us in quite a pickle doesn’t it?” he said. “I don’t’ think I’ve ever seen a Reaper forget to teleport when stepping off of a building. You were in such a hurry to travel to the Past that you no longer have a Future. I guess in a way you succeeded though. You’re definitely history.” He giggled at his own joke, but the sight of the crisp white shirt peeking past the black sleeves of his regulation suit caused it to die in his throat.  
Business. This was still business. Oh yes, this certainly was NO laughing matter…but it might yet yield positive results. A sigh of hope mingled with weariness escaped him. It was the kind of weariness unknown to those who lived a mere firefly century of years. His long, pale tresses slid forth softly as a winding sheet as he bent down to examine the body on the pavement. Fortunately, since they were both Reapers, few wayfarers would notice them even in death.

Gently turning the head of the corpse with a dark enameled finger, he marveled at how little damage there was on the outside. “Hit your head just right, did you, dearie? I’m sure there are some broken ribs as well. Hmm, perhaps the shock stopped your heart? I wonder if that would please you. Should I write down, ‘Died of a broken heart’? Hmmm? That might get a few of the lads, and perhaps some of the lasses, scrambling to wonder if they were the cause, eh? Hee, hee…ah wait.” 

Reaching out his long arms, he lifted her as gently as he would a child. “Well, Taylor, you might not be going into the Past yourself, but we might yet still have use for your body. I hope you don’t mind.” With that he teleported to the hospital where an emergency team might be able to keep the corpse alive long enough to heal. Taylor’s spirit would not be returning, he knew for a certainty, which was good because there was another one that needed to take over. One that needed reaping still.  
…  
Interlude: William

The phone rang at an ungodly hour, and he would know since he was a Death God after all. William cracked an eye to gaze blearily at the giant clock on the table next to his bed. The eerie glow off the analogue face told him it was nearly 4am. When would his coworkers have the common decency to let him sleep? He already worked a double shift the day before and hoped to sleep long enough, and deep enough, that he could handle the morning shift that was next on his schedule. Morning started far too early in Purgatory. 

Maybe if he ignored it, the caller would realize they made a mistake? The phone was all the way over in the other room after all. He avoided keeping electronics in the bedroom as much as possible. The constant hum and chatter of the things acted as the antithesis of sleep for him. Given that he had been born nearly 200 years before their advent, the sound remained unnatural to him. 

The phone rarely rang while he worked and did so even less when he finally trudged home. The odds of it being a wrong number were slim and diminished with every passing second of shrill, insistent sound. Dragging himself out of bed, he grabbed his glasses and stormed into the other room. Snatching the phone from its recharging cradle in the living room, he frowned before he even heard a voice. The feel of the tiny thing in his hand felt entirely unsatisfying compared to the weight of the old corded ones in the office. You could seriously bludgeon someone with one of those, and if this call turned out to be frivolous, that might be exactly what he’d do to the person on the other end. “William T. Spears here. This had better be important!” 

An old, familiar voice echoed from the other end. “Why, my, my Mr. Spears! No kind words after all these years? All these years of waiting no less?” That stopped him. Ankou and he had a pact after all. 

William’s anger dissipated like the morning fog. In a quiet voice he replied, “It’s finally time?” So much waiting, longing, despairing, hoping, was it finally over? 

“Yes indeed, my friend,” the voice on the other side of the line replied. That last word was one nearly foreign to William’s vocabulary, yet all they had been through together gave him, Ankou, and Mr. Knox a bond that could hardly be called anything less.

“When?” he choked out. Already the strain of so many years of emotions made his voice raspy. What needed to come next wouldn’t be less painful.

“Actual-l-y…” the voice paused as if in thought, “…now.” 

“WHAT!?!” William burst out, moving the phone in front of his eyes as if seeing the picture of Ankou’s long, silver white tresses and prevalent grin would alleviate anything. “That’s no way to do things! How am I supposed to get there?”

“The same way you usually do. Use the teleport pylon. I will meet you there shortly,” Ankou replied in a mix of cool tones and colorful amusement. Damn the man. Couldn’t he be serious even this once?

“Who’s going to run the office while I’m out?!” William snarled at the phone. 

The unblinking image continued to mock him with its eternal amusement. “How long do you think this is going to take, William? It’s a reaping, not a wedding.”

William blushed at that. Damn the man. “It. Is. An. Important. One.” He forced each word out through gritted teeth.

“Ah, ha-ha, my friend, great or small, these things are all about the same. The office will be fine for the few moments you will be away. You were going in shortly anyway, were you not? Go ahead and take your lunch break at the start of the day, if it bothers you so. Then you can see it all the way through.” William could picture Ankou waving his gloved hand at him to encourage him to calm down. 

He could still imagine him being shrouded in the robes of the Undertaker the man used to play the part of. He even opted to go by “Ankou D Undertaker” on his office placard even though it wasn’t truly his last name. Ankou was older than last names, William suspected. At least the man said he had no claim to one. They weren’t common in the early days. Such surnames had to be earned. The truth of the matter remained a mystery since Ankou was the oldest Reaper any of them knew.

“Fine. Give me fifteen minutes. No, twelve. I will be there,” William replied in a low voice attempting to regain his composure. This was possibly the most important reaping of his entire existence. He HAD to get a grip on his himself. No sense in scaring her. They’d never even met yet.  
Throwing on his suit and tie in record time, William hit the door with keys, completion stamp pen, and folder in hand in less than 4 minutes. Teleporting directly into his office, he stormed out onto the floor, his footfalls marking a sharp staccato on the cold marble tile. A swift right at the windows led him towards Knox’s desk.

“I’m going out. I need to leave someone in charge,” he said glaring at the man as though he were the last choice William had in mind. The man jumped and his stack of paperwork skewed dangerously from being bumped by Ronald’s elbow.

Knox picked up on his aggravation and flustered state right away. “You’re here early aren’t you? Where’s the fire, sir?” he joked.

“It’s Carina. The time of her collection is due,” he replied crisply. 

That stopped him.

It shouldn’t gratify him so, but William couldn’t help but be pleased that SOMEONE else understood the gravity of the situation.  
“So you’re going out to get Carina?” Knox asked, spinning about in his chair and adjusting his own spectacles for once. The man peered up at him, evaluating.

“Yes,” he answered in a crisp, cool tone.

“Then I’m not staying behind. Sure, you’re acting like you’re fine with it, but once you get out there, you might start falling apart. This is your wife we’re talking about, after all…”

“Future wife,” William replied.

“I thought you considered yourself married?” Knox responded, puzzled.

“I do,” William replied, adjusting his glasses for emphasis.

Shaking his head as if to chase off nightmares, Knox said, “Whatever. This business gets too complicated for my blood. At any rate, I’m going to be sure you have someone with you in case you do have trouble. We’re supposed to have back-up, after all.”

“I’ll have Ankou,” he responded, double-checking his jacket for his scythe. There it was. Seems he had left it in his suit coat the night before. Its weight had become so familiar that he could hardly tell it was there anymore. His choice had been a set of long-handled pruning shears meant for high branches. The long handle retracted admirably, allowing him to tuck the whole thing into a deep breast pocket of his jacket. Lying next to his left shoulder, it was literally and figuratively close to his heart. For many years his Deathscythe and his shadow were the only friends he counted on being there for him. Now he had Mr. Knox before him actually worrying about his well-being. Such moments as this still felt strange to William.

Ronald Knox rose and looked him in the eye. “And Ankou’s going to take care of you, is he? I think he’ll be busy processing Carina’s soul. Do you really see him as the one to carry you off to the bar for a stiff drink if you find it all too overwhelming? You know quite well that we aren’t normally assigned to collect the souls of those close to us. It’s both to keep us unbiased and sane, although it is a punishment in its own way, I suppose. Regardless, sir, you need a second on hand to help YOU if you need it. That second’s going to be me, and I’m not going to budge on it.”

William lifted the frames of his glasses between his thumb and forefinger, holding them as though to get a closer look at the specimen before him. Ron’s version of care wasn’t William’s cup of tea, quite literally some days, but he could recognize and appreciate it after all these years. Still, personal life and emotions could not come before the job. “And whom shall take your place here?” William prompted.

“Oh, let Grelle do it. I’ve nearly got this batch of paperwork done anyway,” he said, swiping a hand through his mop of blonde hair shaded to black on the sides. The level of unconcern in his voice irked William.

“Grelle is one of the most incompetent Shinigami out there! As soon as I turn my back, she’ll be into trouble. How can you even suggest putting her in charge? She can’t run a marathon much less Dispatch!” Anger at the years of dealing with Grelle’s incompetence and foolish schemes welled up in him and spilled into his words. 

Ronald pulled on his gloves and said, “Look, sir, if you want to have things go smooth at this reaping, and I’m sure you do…” he trailed off and William nodded agreement to his words. Picking the thread back up he continued, “…then you probably don’t want Grelle on hand with that chainsaw of hers. It’s just begging for trouble.”

“Yes, but I…” William began only to be cut off by Ronald, a thing the man rarely did.

“So you ask her to watch Dispatch,” Ronald said, getting to his feet. “Don’t order her to do it, ask. Show some sincerity, a hint of vulnerability, if I may be so bold, and I don’t think she’ll let you down. Besides, most of the staff here know their jobs well enough to keep things rolling for the short period we’ll be gone. You could appoint someone else, you know, but I think if you set her in charge, it will keep her from testing the limits of your replacement. She holds you in high regard, you know. Grelle doesn’t see anyone as measuring up to you in your position.”

A flash of anger surged through him. Breathing in sharply through thinned nostrils, William couldn’t see any holes in Ronald’s argument. Although it felt like setting the red fox to guard the henhouse, he supposed it was the path of least difficulty overall. More importantly, he didn’t have a better plan and only 7 minutes left to get down to the teleport circle and all its pylons.

“Very well, Mr. Knox. Lead on. Don’t think I’m not aware that you are looking forward to seeing my discomfiture as this little production plays out.”

“Me, sir?” Ronald said moving down the hallway as he spoke. “I am the soul of sincerity, itself! Surely you don’t think I’d set out to make you uncomfortable in such a demanding hour?”

As his long stride caught him up to the younger Reaper’s trajectory, William adjusting his glasses and amended his words saying, “I don’t think you’d set it up, but I do think you’d cheerfully enjoy the show as it played out.”

Looking up at him, Ron replied, “I can’t deny that.” William shook his head as they doubled back down the hall. Had he really been around Grelle for nearly 2 centuries and been through so much with her and yet never really trusted her with anything? Not once? 

No, that wasn’t quite right. He had trusted her with his heart when it was at its most fragile and she had neither let him down nor taken advantage of his moment of weakness. Was it the fact that he had shared such a deeply guarded part of himself that he passed her over for promotion in the division time and time again?

No.

The Reaper was simply incompetent.

Well, incompetent wasn’t really the term. Grelle had all the potential to be a great Reaper and none of the discipline. Frankly, he suspected she did half of what she did out of boredom. “This place is deathly dull, Will. Let’s go somewhere fun.” He could hear her voice even now.  
Hmm. Perhaps if she could handle herself this once, he’d indulge her enough to give her a half-day off to go shopping. He supposed he owed her that much.

He and Ron took the final jog past the stairwell and made their way to the Collections Department. It was where Grelle was most likely to be at that particular hour. You know her schedule much too well, William, he thought to himself. Even if it’s only to avoid her, you wind up caught up with her time and again, like a comet that can’t break free of that red sun’s gravity. Gravity…if she had a bit more seriousness you’d probably get along better.

He let the train of thought rest as they opened the door to the spacious lounge where the Reapers took their ease after assignments or while researching the next. Pulling on the long metal handle of the right-side door, William pulled it wide. There she was.

Grelle stood perusing the books and records along the back wall. She was graceful enough not to knock over the icons and relics that commemorated past Reapers achievements and lives before their ultimate Promotion. Most went to a better fate, the others…probably not. Best to not dwell. What he himself was about to do might be tipping those scales in a direction that could land him in a more dire place.  
What choice did he have?

Clearing his throat, he called out loudly and sharply, “Grelle Sutcliff!” That got her attention. The Red Reaper turned, her long red trench coat swaying and flaring out with the motion. 

“Will! What brings you down to our humble, little Reaper lounge at this hour?” she asked in bemusement. Her eyes held a hopeful sparkle that William always feared and avoided. That Grelle desired him to be in a position over her in more ways than one wasn’t news to anyone.  
Glancing at Mr. Knox, William caught Ron’s slight nod. Time to feed the beast. 

Transferring his full attention to the most feared Reaper in all Purgatory, William gave her his sharpest glance as he said, “Grelle, I need you.” That brought her coy sway to a sudden stop. Even her coat became still as death itself as she processed the words.

“Wait, you actually came down here looking for me?” she asked. William cut her off before she could say anything more. He had a schedule to keep.

“Yes, Grelle. I need you to watch dispatch for me. I will be gone for about a half an hour if things go well, three hours if it doesn’t. Should Mr. Knox return before me, you will relinquish the reins of Dispatch to him. Can you do this for me?” William asked with a hefty sharpness to his voice. He felt like he was gambling with fire instead of dice.

Confusion suffused her features. Raising a single black-gloved finger to her tilting cheek she asked, “If you are asking me for help at last, you must be truly desperate, Will. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. What’s the occasion that has our spheres colliding at last?”

Giving a short cough into his own glove at the emotions suddenly choking his voice William replied, “It’s time for Carina’s reaping.”

“OH!” she cried out, her green eyes flying open wide. “Time for you to collect your bride? Wish I could come along, but I’m sure you’d hate to have the bridesmaid outshining her on this, her special day. So she’s a June death, is she? Lucky girl!” Tension rippled down William’s frame with his sudden anger. 

“THAT’S ENOUGH, MR. SUTCLIFF!” William realized only belatedly that he used the wrong pronoun. The flush on his cheeks grew as embarrassment joined anger on them. Having known Grelle as a man first for so many years, it made the other rise to his lips automatically when Grelle pushed him too far. 

While he accepted Grelle’s personal view of herself, he still made mistakes sometimes. Mistakes were something William desperately despised. Grelle had become more prone to settling on “she” than “he”. So William tried to follow suit out of respect. 

“My, my. No need to get testy, Will,” she said. Was that a dig? Some sly comment snuck in about his misgendering her? Given her penchant for such, it seemed likely. 

He sighed. That one he earned, so he let it slide.

“Forgive me, Grelle, my time is short. I have…,” he flipped open his pocket watch, “exactly two and a half minutes to arrive on time. I need to know if I can rely on you to handle London Dispatch while I’m gone or not.”

Grelle slowly strutted around the semi-circle of couches. “Well, while I might not be pleased that you are about to run off to fetch that woman’s soul after all this time, I can hardly deny you, can I? She’s the only one I was willing to relinquish you to in the first place. Do you know why?” She paused in front of him, her voice dropping into a smoky, sultry tone. William braced himself for whatever came next.

A single gloved hand came up between them, one pointed finger making circles on his tie. Even Mr. Knox took a step back to be clear of her just in case. “I didn’t do it for her, you know. Yes, she fell for you, but who wouldn’t? No, Will. I did it for you. I did it because you actually fell for her and I saw the truth of the matter.”

William met her eyes, only to see Grelle look down. Were those tears forming? After all this time did it still sting her so? William’s own heart squeezed in sympathy. Purgatory took its due from each of them in various, painful ways.

Grelle continued. “If I couldn’t have you, then by all that is still holy, I’d only relinquish you to someone who could stir you that way. Someone who would be as good to you as I wanted to be. In the end, I had to admit she was good for you as well. So go. Go to her. I pledge to you this Dispatch will run with all the speed and efficiency that you have come to expect from it. You’re such an exacting man. I hope I can measure up to your…expectations. Ah, ha-hmm.” 

Grelle would never have him. Clearly that pain hadn’t faded or tarnished in all the years that followed. William didn’t understand the fascination she held for him, especially since she went haring off after any good-looking man that came along, be they human, Reaper, or demon. She might even go after angels or gods for all that William knew. Another reason not to get involved with her from his standpoint. Even so, the honest pain and vulnerability Grelle shared with him required a response.

They’d been through so much. Perhaps he’d give in to her, just this once.

“Grelle,” he said quietly, his own hand coming up to gently take her chin and lift her gaze to meet his. “I have never held any doubt that you could reach my expectations. You’ve just never applied yourself fully to the task. In this hour, I choose you to do this.” William could see the tears Grelle had almost mastered rise again and flow freely down the woman’s cheeks. The naked pain in her eyes, the resignation paired with flares of hope shared more of her soul with him than contact with her body ever could. He accepted it. Took it into himself and gave back what little care and honest emotion he could.

Taking a slow, deep breath, he whispered low, “I could have gone to some younger Reaper, but I thought that only you would understand the weight on my heart today. So be not flippant or sly with me, Grelle. Show me your true dedication. This calls for precision, not flamboyance. I leave one of the most precious things in my life in your care as I go to seek out the other one. Will you give me your best just this once?” Realizing how forcefully he held her chin up, he weakened his grasp, letting her face drift away from his like an unmoored ship. The two of them were drifting apart towards unknown destinies. The past and future were colliding and leaving them awash in a present they couldn’t follow together anymore.

“Of course, Will,” came the broken, choked reply. He stepped back and gave her a curt nod, not trusting his own voice at that moment. Grelle dashed one arm under her glasses to clear her vision then her head snapped up, the fire back in her eyes, her stance taking on new life.  
“Go, Will! I promise you, this Dispatch will run as efficiently as you were here yourself! It might take a costume change to help me get in the mood…” she said, looking thoughtful, lost in her own ideas at last.

“Do what you need to do, but do it quickly. I have no more time to spare. I must meet Ankou at the pylons in…” he checked his watch again. “Less than a minute. I entrust Dispatch to your care.”

“WAIT!” she cried, rushing up to him. 

“What is it now?!” he snarled at her. She sucked up enough precious time as it was. There was no more to spare!

“No one is going to believe that you left Dispatch to me without a note,” she said rather contritely, looking over the top rim of her spectacles. Even the bow on her red and white striped ribbon seemed to droop apologetically at her words.

“Fine then!” Snatching a notepad out of his pocket, he pulled forth his completion pen stamp and scratched out an inelegant note and stuffed it in her open hand. It had both the date and his signature and outlined the length of time her duties would hold. 

As she gazed at it, he beckoned Mr. Knox to follow him. No time left. “Meet me at the pylons. Be sure to arrive at your specific number lest we run into traffic.” That was a rather polite way to say, “Lest we wind up melded into another Reaper’s body.” Teleportation had its risks. You’d best know the location you were aiming for was clear. It was why they assigned numbered pylons to each Shinigami in the first place.

One quick flash and they were both gone. 

Author’s Note: This is the epic I have been trying to write for years. I’m finally starting it at the point that the action picks up rather than the roughly chronological start since this is a time-travel story and it loops. It’s not completed, but it’s high time I kept my promise and got it out there. You can read the SDSC Red Valentine story as a side tale as we work our way up to February 14, 1889. This story has taken a lot to create. There will be other viewpoints by my co-creators. This part of the tale is mine. Enjoy.


	2. Shinigami Dispatch Society Chronicles Opening Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William, Ankou, and Ron head out for a very important reaping. Some unexpected facts come to light in the process. William realizes he has to convince the target to come with them, but has trouble coming up with the words.

SDSC Chapter 2 Opening Carina and William Final

Interlude: William  
Down at the pylons, Ankou waited for them. “Well, well, you two were practically late.” 

William’s eyes flashed coldly as he adjusted his glasses, making sure they were on right after the teleport as much as to emphasize his annoyance. “Almost late is the same as just in time. I had to deal with Grelle first or I would have been here early,” he said.

“Oooooh, so that’s what kept you, eh? At least you have Mr. Knox here to keep you company.” He waved at the blond-topped, black-haired Reaper and got one in return as William double-checked his watch. 

“It’s time. Where are we going?” Will snapped out.

“To America,” the former Undertaker replied.

William put his hand to his forehead. “I could have guessed that. Which state are we going to?” 

“The Great Lakes Region, Michigan, to be precise, not to the frontier lands she originally claimed to be from,” Ankou replied folding his hands together before him. His long, black nails created their own shadows, a picture of calm repose even as William took a step back in shock.

“Seems your wife has been keeping a few secrets of her own, William.” The eternal grin the man wore returned to his face as he watched William flounder. 

“Seems to me she might have mentioned it to me once or twice,” he said, trying to defend her honor. “If I failed to take proper note, then that is on me, not her.”

“Sorry to break it up, you two, but if you intend to be on time, we need to get going,” chimed in Knox. His sense of time tended to be almost as keen as William’s own. Were it out of dedication to his work rather than to his extraneous activities, William would find it admirable. In this case, the man had a point. Getting the specific coordinates, they made their jump.

…  
William in the Americas

Touching down, William could hear Mr. Knox saying, “They certainly don’t make rooftops as high as they used to. We might have to duck down to keep from being seen, good sirs, even as dark as it is. The lighting in the main walkway here is pretty good.” This last was directed at him and Ankou as they both dwarfed Mr. Knox. Sighing, he took a knee and gazed over the edge of the shop awnings to scan the sidewalk below for signs of Carina.

He couldn’t bring himself to think of her as “the target”. Such terms acted as a buffer between them and the work they had to do in the field, but today they faltered in his mind. No. Maybe on any other day, but not this one.

“There she is!” Mr. Knox cried, his large, gloved hand shooting out to pick out a figure passing the few other movie goers. People here traveled out into the late evening gloom as the shows let out, all chatting in small family or friend groups about what they had just seen. Some carried large parcels that they had been loathe to carry out to their vehicles before their movie started. The young spring leaves were unfurling on the trees trapped in their tiny patches of turf amidst the wide concrete pathways. William couldn’t understand the fascination with chasing after things that brought no satisfaction. The trees and beauty of the starry skyline were trapped and tamed in the middle of these testaments to needless acquisition. 

Holding onto the edge of his glasses with one hand, William leaned out over the ledge to catch his first glimpse of his wife in over 40 years. For a moment, he sat confused. Then he narrowed his eyes, squinting to get a better look at her.

The features he had memorized over the course of a century looked different, strange to him even. Have I lost my connection to my love after all this time? he wondered in a near panic, although he let none of it show on the surface. No, surely not!

“What’s the matter, sir?” Mr. Knox asked him, wandering to his side, trying to see what he was seeing from his vantage point.

“Nothing!” he snapped. No, it wasn’t that his memory had become unreliable, rather time had laid hints of frost into her hair. Age didn’t touch Reapers once they took their final appearance. Such varied from person to person. Whenever they felt the best about themselves was when Reapers wound up drawing their appearance from…as long as they could pass as an adult. Whether they felt their strongest and best at 17 or 18 or at 45 or 65, it depended upon the individual. After that, they became the ideal version of that form. 

Life no longer held sway over them, or at least not mortality. As a Reaper, you truly were only as old as you felt. Why it mattered that they be graced with such when the rest of their existence became an ongoing toil filled with drudgery, he didn’t know. Of course, the weight of their work and lives in Purgatory made them all feel older as the weight of years and others records bore down on them. Those who didn’t feel it, didn’t appear to age. William hoped those hints meant that they were learning and getting closer to Promotion.

Here, though, here Carina had lived long enough that Life set its lines upon her face and skin. Her body wasn’t the trim form he recalled, but more matronly with age. She moved with a grace and agility born of a memory of a younger person’s body. Thus, he understood why she wound up appearing as she did to him. Here she could be his age, maybe even slightly older, if just. 

Unexpectedly, his heart leaped in his chest, like a glacier cracking, and then melted, drawing the meltwater of decades of frozen feelings down his cheeks unbidden. Droplets fell onto his gloves and he stared at them, incomprehensive of whence they came for a moment. Dashing them away with the back of his hand, he took two calming breaths before rising.

“You all right, sir? Mr. Undertaker and I can probably handle things if you need,” Mr. Knox said in soft tones, his hands outstretched as if to calm a frightened animal.

Wiping his nose with a monogrammed handkerchief, William restored himself to order before rounding on Mr. Knox. “Do you even begin to think I would sit back on the sidelines at a crucial moment like this? No matter how painful, I must be there to see this one through. It certainly emphasizes why we shouldn’t get emotionally involved, though,” he finished in a quieter voice. Surely getting involved with a fellow Reaper wouldn’t be a problem, right?

What a fool he had been.

Yet he could feel the stirring of emotions within him already, a desire to protect her from the inevitable event that that their very presence imminently implied. Mr. Knox was not entirely wrong. He could choose to walk away. Technically they could all walk away. The woman down there wasn’t slated to die today. What they were doing was by all rights murder, something Grim Reapers simply did not do.

However...

A glance to his left revealed the tall shadow that was Ankou. Within his volumous robes there was a folded piece of paper, handed down from one of the highest of the tiers you could reach, giving special permission to reap her soul early. A single leaf of paper held her soul in balance. Something with little more weight than a feather would tip the scales of her life forever. 

Why?

Ankou met his eyes and said, “My friend, it is time to go. We must proceed.” A watch sat in his palm, his long fingernails carefully pressing it closed. William couldn’t remember the last time he saw Ankou use a watch for anything. 

A hand fell on his other shoulder, shaking him gently. “Mr. Spears, sir? It’s time. We’ll miss our window.” 

Was he really that out of it? Shaking himself, he extended his scythe to the bottom of the alleyway between shops. With only being one story tall, he didn’t even have to extend it all the way to make the jump. Pushing off, he simply began retracting the long-handled pruner until he touched down with perfect balance where the gripping end of his scythe rested.

Knox simply jumped down, allowing his lawnmower scythe take most of the impact with its flexible frame and shock absorbing tires as he rode it to the ground. Ankou-he couldn’t exactly say. Ankou simply appeared where he needed to be. Did he actually teleport his way down? Highly inadvisable, if so, but he might have a mastery of the skill that none of the younger generation of Reapers could hope to match. It was equally likely that he simply jumped and knew how to land. William didn’t get to work with him in the field enough to say. His focus wasn’t on the older Reaper’s methods anyway. The shadow of his beloved started to reach the mouth of the alleyway. 

That’s when the panic set in.

“Ankou, she has to give her consent to be reaped early. I still don’t know what to say. I’ve never figured out what to tell her no matter how much I’ve contemplated it.” He nervously adjusted his tie as if it mattered.

“Well,” Ankou said, tipping his head to the side, “I suppose that means what you said to her you came up with on the spur of the moment.”

“Can’t you do it instead? You’re much better with words than I am!” How could he do it? How could he bring himself to ask her to die, to end her life early? Why would she? For him? She didn’t even know him!

Ankou shook his head, a gentle sadness hung in the air about him. “I am sorry my friend. The one thing you made clear in our private talks was that the last voice she heard was your voice. That part of the task needs must be yours.” 

“But I can’t do it! What do I say? How can I kill her? This isn’t a normal collection. I have to ask her to die ahead of schedule. What is she leaving behind? I didn’t get to read her record or to observe her in advance! How can I judge her soul?!” He backed up a pace towards the large waste bins that bracketed either side of the alleyway.

“Now, now, sir! Bottle!” called Mr. Knox from atop one of them. His mower acting as a perch to keep his trendy suit and shoes from directly touching the lid of the bin. Bottle. Courage. 

“You can do this, William. You already have. Be brave now.” Ankou rested a comforting hand upon his shoulder for a moment before using it to propel him forward towards his destiny. This woman embodied his past, his present, and his future. He walked like a man going to his doom, but he walked forward nonetheless.

Coming around the corner, he nearly collided with her. Only some swift backpedaling saved them both. “I’m so sorry. Do excuse me,” she said as she began to change her course to go around him. Her brown hair was shorter than he was used to, the back coming up in the fluffy layers of a reverse-bob. 

“Carina, wait!” he called after her. That made her pause.

“Have we met?” she asked, her eyes narrowing as she looked him over. “How do you know my name?” William blinked suddenly in surprise. 

“Not yet,” he replied and mentally kicked himself for such a terrible opening. Still, he wouldn’t lie to her at a time like this. His eyes darted around, taking her in. She dressed simply in casual clothing considered ‘modern’. After so many years of seeing her in suits or formal dresses, it seemed out of place. The only thing that bespoke the woman he knew was the green colors. Even now it wasn’t her beloved emerald, though, only a drab green closer to pine. Yet she wore them with an unconscious familiarity, a relaxed state he rarely saw. She’s not under the grinding wheels of Purgatory’s machine yet. Are you sure you want to do this to her, William? he asked himself. 

His phosphorescent green eyes met her olive and brown ones. He stood close enough to make out the deep blue ring that encircled the world held in her eyes. I don’t want to. I have to. Too many lives are at stake if I don’t. Perhaps I should just tell her that? 

She awaited his answer. Ankou and Knox stood in the shadows as quiet support. It all rested on him now. Clearing his throat he said, “I need your help.”

“My help with what?” she asked puzzled. He caught her gaze roving behind him and followed it to Mr. Knox waving to her from his perch. She cautiously waved back, clearly confused, but not overly suspicious. Knox exuded affability and charm. For once, William was grateful for it. His mind raced with all the things he couldn’t say. He couldn’t profess his love for her. He couldn’t tell her how it would all turn out, in truth, in this moment, he didn’t know how it would anymore himself. What could he tell her?

It dawned on him at last.


	3. Shinigami Dispatch Society Chronicles Opening Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William, Ankou (Undertaker), and Ron head to the America's to reap William's future wife. Grelle is left running the office.

SDSC Chapter 3 Opening Carina and William

Interlude: William

The words had no more than left William’s lips when she asked, “Will it hurt?” in a small voice as she placed both of her hands into his. They were cool to the touch, fear draining her body heat. He chaffed them and spoke to Ankou. “Can you do your strike from the back, so she doesn’t know when it happens?”

Ankou looked grim. “I am not a craven who would strike a person down from behind. Nay. Every person must face their own death. However…” he tapped a thoughtful lacquered nail against his lips. “One need not face their death head-on though, I suppose.” With that he walked up to Carina’s side and William captured her face in his hands as he saw Ankou pull out his giant Deathscythe. 

“It will be quick. Just stay calm and talk to me. See only me,” he said. She nodded as best she could in his grasp and he kept his eyes locked on hers, trying to believe it would be okay. It didn’t feel right to him either. She started to speak, but her next words were cut off with the first sound. He winced. There was nothing normal about this reaping and it felt like his heart was stabbed when Ankou’s blade entered the side of her body. 

Together they watched her cinematic record play out. “Oh Carina,” he said with a soft sob as the light left her body.  
“So do we just send her soul on to Collections?” Ron asked.

“No. Wait. We have a better use for it,” William said as the last of Carina’s record flew like reels of film into Ankou’s blade. 

“Eh?” Ron said, perplexed. “Then how is this supposed to go?” he asked.

“I’ll take it with me to Personnel. There is a body waiting for it already,” Ankou said, the long strands of his hair falling back into place as he rose from the bow he had taken over the body as he read the soul record.

“I want to go with you,” William said as Ankou bent to collect the bright energy that was the soul of his wife-to-be. 

“I am sorry, my friend. I do not think that would be wise. Let me do this part. I will keep you abreast of the progress. Best you go off with Mr. Knox. You may not feel it yet, but the stress is starting to show upon you.” The looming Reaper rested a long-fingered hand gently upon his shoulder. Only then did William begin to feel the shaking. Raising his own hand, he could see the fingers trembling.

“Come on, sir. Let’s get you up. I know a nice pub near Piccadilly Circus that will fix you right up,” Ron said, getting an arm under him and lifting him with ease. His mower handle rested in his opposite hand. William offered neither agreement nor protest as Ankou teleported away, carrying the soul of his beloved with him, leaving him with the corpse of his wife lying on the pavement before him.

Swallowing hard, the last thing he saw was the wind lifting strands of her brown hair as Ron teleported them both away.

A number of shorts and shandies later, Ron brought him back to the office. While it took a fair quantity of alcohol to get a Reaper drunk, William had enough to prevent him from being able to keep his own feet. Knox had a shoulder under him and was attempting to get William down the hall to his office quietly, but Will’s hopes of not running into Grelle were swiftly dashed.

Grelle proved as good as her word as she appeared to be wearing something akin to a school marm’s outfit. No one else noticed the two of them because she smacked a wooden pointer against the desk of anyone who dared to raise their head. While that maneuver served them well as far as sneaking past the rank and file, it also meant the uneven scraping sound of Mr. Spear’s shoes upon the tile stood out in the near silence. 

Grelle spun around sharply, looking to reprimand someone. William saw her eyes widen with shocked surprise and she hurried up to them as they cleared the next corner. She caught with the pair as they reached the last turning for William’s office. Carina’s old desk still lay in the hallway outside acting as both a painful reminder and yet a promise, one that it was up to him to fulfill. 

Glancing about her to make sure no one else was near, Grelle hissed at them, “Wait, has William been drinking?” Her voice was colored with curiosity and something akin to disgust. Somehow he hated to disappoint her.

Ronald remained as cheerful as ever. “You could say he’s flat out Dumbo’s trunk at this point,” he replied as he hoisted William up higher. Will attempted to glare at them, but it was hard when he couldn’t keep his focus or his feet. Perhaps he had taken in a bit too much. The image of Carina’s cooling body on the pavement came back to him. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t quite enough.

“Grelle,” he said at last, pleased that his words were sharp at least. “I need some time alone to sort things out after this experience. It was rather harrowing for me, as I am sure you can imagine. So if you would be so good as to carry on in my absence, I will come to relieve you as soon as I am properly able.”

“Oh, yes, of course, Will,” she replied. With that, William waved her away, or at least tried to. Mr. Knox got the door open to his office, carried him over to his chair, and lowered William so he could slump into it, leaving his own atrocity of a Deathscythe outside the door. It remained in view, so Mr. Knox was still within the handling rules required during shift. Not that William would be strongly inclined to enforce them, but Knox’s efforts to maintain the status quo pleased him. It meant that Knox had likely been diligent outside of the moment. Then again, Ron would hate to lose his custom blade to such a minor infraction, if you could call his Deathscythe that.  
“Thank you, Mr. Knox. I shan’t trouble you further,” William assured him.

Ronald looked skeptically at him. “Are you sure, sir? It’s no problem for me to stay and make sure you’re all right.” 

“No, no need to stay. We’ll fall behind before long if both of us continue to lollygag. I’ll pull myself together shortly once the initial shock has worn off. That and the alcohol, that is. I’ve run this office under worse conditions. We know she’ll be all right, so now we need only wait.”

Mr. Knox bobbed his head in affirmation. His blond tips distracting William with their movement and contrast to the black under color. “Whatever you say, boss.” With that, he gently closed the door behind him and left William to his musings. 

To that end, he attempted to avoid musing at all on the events further. The trip to the bar was meant to take care of that need. What he required now was work. While he started out slowly, trying to get the words to stay together on the page properly, William managed to speed up as the alcohol burned through his system. As he had told Knox, he had run this office in more difficult situations. This would be easier than any of the wars and plagues they had seen. 

By noon William felt normal enough to try his feet. Finding his balance stable, he returned to the floor to check on Grelle. The office bustled with quiet busywork, but William could see the looks of worry and the beads of sweat rolling down some of the faces as Grelle strode up and down the office aisles in the bull pit section, probably getting more paperwork done vicariously than she had ever completed in her entire reaping career.

Clearing his throat, William caught everyone’s attention before speaking. 

“I suppose I should reward you for managing to do what I asked of you for once,” William said, adjusting his glasses from the side.  
“Really Will?” Grelle said, hopeful. “Does that mean you’ll finally throw over that other woman and choose me?” Anger shot through him, making his eyes narrow before he realized that Grelle was idly suggesting it. She clearly held no hope of such. 

“No.” Giving her that short, curt reply, he contemplated what might work for her. He wanted to reinforce the good behavior while he had the chance.

“Why are you going to reward her? She’s still out of dress code,” Audrey, one of the disgruntled secretaries, asked.

Casting a glance to where the secretary’s eyes jealously gazed, he took in Grelle’s outfit as well as her discomforted fiddling. For once she looked contrite, deflated even. She rose to the occasion when I needed her, he thought. Clearing his throat he turned his cold gaze back upon the secretary, aware that the rest of the room watched the interplay as well. “That is so, however, this is the most competency I’ve seen from Grelle in over a hundred years. While I won’t contest that she is not in standard uniform, there is still marked improvement and such a dramatic increase is worth rewarding. Remember, it isn’t just following the rules, it is also how well each of us as individuals improve ourselves and our efforts.”

Turning away from the affronted secretary’s shocked huff, he fixed his attention on Grelle. “I believe I will put in a request for a full day off for you. You may spend it shopping or whatever else it is you like to do in your free time,” he said, then added, “as long as it falls within the rules.” 

“Really? Oh Will!” Grelle cried and tried to hug him. He sidestepped with all the skill of a matador, but with less show. However, the disgruntled secretary wasn’t done. 

“Are you seriously going to reward her with time off for this fiasco?” she asked incredulous. 

William flicked his green-eyed gaze to her, his eyes hard as ice. “I could leave her here to continue to run the office if you prefer.” That did it.

“N-n-no, no need to do that!” she replied and put her head back down over her paperwork although William doubted she was seeing anything on the pages yet.

“Come, Grelle. I’ll see you in my office and put in the request right away.” Walking away, the normal busy sounds of the office resumed. He was back. Carina was in the hospital getting put into a dead Reaper’s shell and things were strange, but strangely right as well. He was back.


End file.
